Dust to Dust
by Ugolino
Summary: Beryon VII. A miserable little dustball unlucky enough to have some tactical value in the Clone Wars. As capital ships and fighters exchange fire in the planet's orbit, a squad of clone commandos is sent to the surface...


**AN: Trying to write a Clone Wars fic. As should be obvious, it's been heavily inspired by various EU sources, including Ms. Traviss's work and Cestus Deception. Reviews and criticism welcome.**

**Modified Acclamator-class assault ship _Unyielding_. Upper atmosphere of Beryon VII. 470 days after the Battle of Geonosis.**

Whoever designed this thing was a di'kut, Shev decided. A complete di'kut, one who'd probably spent his career twiddling a stylus in front of a desk and drawing pretty diagrams instead of actually thinking about the men who'd have to use the pods he designed.

Shev was a HOPE, or High Orbital Precision Entry trooper, a member of a specialized commando squad of the kind now infamous across the galaxy for their black-ops missions. Unlike their more common comrades, HOPE troopers were primarily sent on those missions where a larty would be vaporized long before getting to troop deployment height, regular trooper pods would be blown out of the air, and the Sky Corps would be torn apart upon planetfall. For any other troopers, it would be a suicide mission. For HOPE troopers, it was a standard op.

The clone commando shifted from foot to foot inside the cramped entry pod, feeling slightly ill at ease as _Unyielding_ shook from the latest proton torpedo barrage.

Having started life in Rothana's shipyards, the massive assault ship had seen action at dozens of battles, including Christophsis and Rendili. Heavily damaged during the defense of Gerjan, the capital ship had been retrofitted to specialize in troop insertion. With expanded hangers and a double row of insertion pods running down the centre, the _Unyielding_ carried almost half again as many troopers and gunships as its standard counterparts. These modifications, however, had a price: the Unyielding was lightly armed for a warship, and only carried a single squadron of Torrent fighters in its bowels. Those fighters were darting outside the ship at that very moment, attempting to keep the Sep droid fighters from swarming the Unyielding and sending it crashing down to Beryon's surface. Judging by Shev's continued survival, they were doing their job.

Shev was distracted from his thoughts by the buzz of his pod's control panel and the display holopanels changing from red to orange: the pod was primed and ready to be launched. There were a series of clangs as someone outside slammed their fist against the durasteel entry hatch, two taps in rapid succession followed by a pause. Shev took a moment to check the display and knocked twice in reply: all clear, situation normal. He was left in near-silence, with only the dull thump-thump of torpedo impacts and the whine of the conveyor belt to listen to. There was a crackle as his helmet com came to life, and he heard a voice as familiar to him as his own. For all intents and purposes, it _was _his own.

"All clear, Majins?"

It was Varn, Majin Squad's squad leader.

"Drav here. Pod primed and ready."

"Hoar reporting in."

There was a moment of silence, then Shev realized that the others were waiting for him and opened a com channel.

"Shev here. Situation 100 percent."

"Right." Varn continued. "Captain Brenin's moving the _Unyielding_ into position. Two minutes to deployment, chaps."

In some squads, one of the commandos would have cracked a joke in the silence that followed. The Majins, however, weren't those kind of troopers. Instead, the commandos waited in silence, running last moment armour and weapon checks. There was a muffled thump, and Varn's helmet transmission blurred as his pod fell like an overweight Hutt. Moments later, Drav and Hoar followed, the latter whooping over the com as he dropped. Flash-trained procedures flashing through his mind, Varn prepared himself as the conveyor belt whirred to life, moving his pod to the deployment hatch. Gritting his jaw to avoid accidentally biting his own tongue off, the commando pressed himself against the pod's side, armoured hands pressed against the durasteel plating. The display flashed green, and Shev's pod fell.

Spinning, the four HOPE pods dropped towards Beryon's grey and brown surface.


End file.
